Scarred (Unlikely Heroes Book 5) (12 page)

He headed for the stairs. He needed to get away from her for awhile. Think this through. Ponder his next course of action.

His so-called plan was useless now. She was damaged, like him. Not perfectly innocent and untouched by evil like he’d imagined.

Yet she was still so sweet. So
good
.

No, he couldn’t give up on his plan yet. She could still save him. She could still help him heal. If she’d done it, certainly he could too.

But he would have to give in and do what she suggested.

He would have to face his demons and set them all free.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Emily’s cellphone rang at six a.m. the next morning. She was already awake, though she hadn’t gotten out of bed yet. Sebastian hadn’t exactly been quiet after he’d gone back upstairs last night. His treadmill had run for over an hour, she’d heard him moving around, banging and clanging noises…then the stereo blared again. He was being childish and rude, but she didn’t entirely blame him. He was scared. Hurting. And lashing out at her in the only way he could.

It was nearly one o’clock before she finally drifted off to sleep. She’d been pretty sure he was still awake up there, doing whatever he did, after she finally fell asleep. If indeed he had insomnia like he’d said, then how did he function with so little sleep?

When was the man going to stop being so stubborn and afraid? Staying up night after night, running on his treadmill, punching the bag, wasn’t going to make the demons go away. Surely he’d figured that out by now.

Emily snatched up her phone, glancing at the screen. It was an unknown number. Who would be calling her at six in the morning?

She hesitated. Then swiped the screen. “Hello?”

“Don’t go outside.”

Sebastian.

How had he gotten her number?

The rental application. 

She sat up in bed. “Why not? What’s going on?”

“Reporters. Out front.”

Emily slid out of bed and walked into her living room. She pulled the blinds aside and peered out. Indeed, people were camped out on Sebastian’s front lawn and the sidewalk and street out front. Television vans were parked in front of the house and she spied a couple of them across the street at the animal rescue.

Someone had leaked Sebastian’s true identity.

“Peter.” Anger tightened her gut. “That little twerp.”

Sebastian sighed. “That’s what I’m guessing. I’ve been here for three years and managed to keep my identity a secret. Now the whole fucking world knows. I can’t deal with this shit right now.”

Emily turned away from the window. She decided not to remind him that he had run around without the baseball cap yesterday. And when they’d gone to lunch with Craig and Karen, people had recognized him, approached him for autographs. He’d been patient and kind with everyone, charming and likeable, the way a celebrity should be. His fans had gone away happy.

“So what are you going to do?”

“I have an idea. You ever been on a motorcycle before?”

“Me?” Emily sank down onto her couch. “No. Why?”

“I’m shutting down the clinic for a few days. I already called Julia. She’s going to take care of everything until I get back. I’m getting out of here, hitting the road. Wanna come with me?”

Emily’s heart raced. “Go with you, where?”

“I don’t know. Somewhere. I just can’t be here right now. I can’t deal with this. I need to get away.”

A road trip with Sebastian. Just the two of them. Nerves skittered down her spine. The idea of riding on a motorcycle scared the crap out of her. She didn’t do dangerous, reckless things. She only did safe things. Motorcycles could be classified as dangerous, maybe even reckless.

But getting away for awhile was probably exactly what Sebastian needed. This might be what helped him to heal.

“Yes.” She pushed aside her fear. “I’ll go with you. When did you want to leave? And how are we going to get out of here without the reporters knowing?”

“Leave that to me. I’ll unlock the connecting door. Just come up when you’re ready.” He disconnected the call.

Emily set her phone on the couch and pondered what she was about to do. Alone with Sebastian on his motorcycle for a few days...

She was terrified.

She jumped up from the couch. Grabbing a duffle bag, she stuffed clothes and toiletries into it. He’d said for a few days, so she shouldn’t need too much.

She jumped into the shower, quickly washed and shaved, then stepped out and dried off. A half hour later, she was ready. Her hair hung loosely down her back, still damp from the shower, but she didn’t want to keep Sebastian waiting, so she didn’t take the time to dry it. She got the sense he was in a hurry to get away and she didn’t blame him.

She hurried up the stairs and knocked on the door.

He yanked it open and motioned her in. He must have been waiting for her. Impatiently, no doubt.

His gaze raked her from head to toe before he turned away.

“You got everything you need?”

“Yes.”

“Come on.” He headed for a door that led out into the garage.

A large purple motorcycle was parked next to a sleek black sports car in the garage. Sebastian had apparently already packed his own things. He took Emily’s bag and stuffed it into one of the motorcycle’s saddlebags. He unhooked the sidecar from the motorcycle and pushed it out of the way. The black dog hairs on the seat indicated Scar had ridden in the sidecar. Now it would sit empty. Unused.

Sebastian handed her a black leather jacket. “Here. It’s my old one. It’s a little snug on me now, so I had to get a new one. It should keep you warm.”

“Thanks.” Emily pulled the jacket on. Though a little big, it was indeed warm. It smelled of aged leather with a faint trace of Sebastian’s unique scent. She resisted the urge to bury her nose inside the jacket and breathe in.

Sebastian donned another jacket. He pressed a button on a remote. A garage door opened out into the backyard. Emily’s eyes widened.

“You have an escape route?”

“Yes. When I bought this place, I had a garage door installed in the back as well as the front so that if I had to get away from reporters, I could.”

“Smart.”

He handed her a helmet and slipped one over his own head, buckling the strap. “Idaho doesn’t require helmets for anyone over the age of seventeen, but most other states do, so you may as well put one on. I don’t know where we’re going yet.” He hopped on the bike. “You ready?”

Emily pulled the helmet over her head. Sebastian helped her secure the strap, his fingers brushing against her chin as he tightened it.

She took a deep breath. Was she ready to slip away for a few days with the most gorgeous man in the world?

“I’m nervous,” she whispered, her cheeks heating at the admission.

His gaze met hers. “Of riding a motorcycle?”

Yes. But mostly of being alone with you and outside of my comfort zone.

“Don’t worry, I’ve never wrecked before. I’ll take care of you.”

I’ve never wrecked before.

Did he mean wrecks in general or just on the motorcycle? The mostly healed injuries on his face told a different story. Unless he’d lied about how he’d gotten the injuries.

She lowered her gaze. Why did she get the nagging suspicion he hadn’t told her the truth about where he’d gotten those facial injuries? 

Sebastian was a mystery she intended to solve. Someday she’d get the truth out of him.

She lifted a leg over the seat, settling behind him. She wrapped her arms around his waist.

“Hang on tight, Emily. I like to go fast.”

I like to go fast.

A shiver of fear lanced through her. Was she making a mistake? She’d never done anything like this before. What the hell was she thinking?

He glanced back at her. “Hey. Relax. I promise I know how to handle this thing.” He rested a hand on her thigh, gently squeezed. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

Emily swallowed hard as she stared into his eyes. His hand was burning a hole through her leg. “Okay.”

He turned back around, removing his hand from her thigh.

He started the bike and the motor purred to life.

“It’s not loud,” she said in surprise.

“I hate loud bikes. I like to hear the wind in my ears.”

“It’s not a Harley?”

“No. This is a Honda Shadow.”

A shadow. That fit him. He would like to hide in the shadows, race like the wind, slip away from everyone.

Their conversation from the day before came back to her:

You like to hide.

Yeah.

Why?

Because I have a lot to hide.

What was Sebastian hiding? What didn’t he want anyone to know about?

He revved the engine a few times. Emily hung on as they left the garage and rolled out into his backyard. He pushed the remote and the garage door closed. Sebastian drove them to a gate in the backyard that she discovered went out into an alleyway.

Minutes later they were racing away, spewing gravel after them, and leaving the reporters—and everything else—behind.

* * *

Sebastian wasn’t lying when he’d said he liked to go fast. He raced through the streets like he was fleeing from hell, peeling out at stop signs, tearing around corners, then rocking to a halt at the freeway entrance. Emily held on for dear life, her heart hammering, her breath catching in her throat, afraid the next turn would send her sprawling out into the road. Sebastian was the type of person who went fast around the turns, daring death to snare him, while Emily was the exact opposite, treading carefully, cautiously around every turn.

After the first several minutes of sheer terror, she came to realize Sebastian knew how to handle the bike and wasn’t going to kill them. She gradually relaxed and let herself enjoy the ride, the wind in her hair, houses and cars and people whipping past, as they left Coeur d’Alene behind. It was exhilarating. She understood why he liked it. It gave her a sense of freedom. Of relief. Was that how he felt? Free as the wind?

They stopped in Spokane about an hour later to fill the bike up with fuel and get some coffee. Then they headed west to Yakima, then south to Kennewick. It was warming up now, the sun shining on their faces. Emily guessed it was somewhere close to noon. She had no idea where Sebastian was heading. He had an anxiousness about him, an apparent urge to go somewhere fast. Was that how he tried to escape his demons? By fleeing as far and as fast as he could?

Another several hours later, they were somewhere in Oregon. They’d passed Portland awhile back. She’d felt the tension leaving his body about an hour ago. The distance, the sped, was helping him to relax. Her butt and back were getting sore from sitting for so long. Would they stop soon?

“You ever seen the coast?” he asked, when they reached a stoplight in Corvallis, Oregon.

Emily shook her head.

He quirked a brow. “You attended UC Davis and never went to the beach?”

She lowered her gaze. “No. It was too far. I was there to study, nothing more.”

He frowned. “You need to learn to live, Emily. To enjoy life. We’ll head to the coast and take the 101 the rest of the way.”

“The rest of the way where?” Had he figured out where they were going?

“To L.A. I have a house in Venice Beach that I rent out. It’s vacant right now. We’ll stop somewhere later this evening for the night, and head the rest of the way tomorrow.”

“Okay. Um, I’m hungry. And my butt and back are getting sore. Can we take a break somewhere and get something to eat?”

He nodded. “We’ll stop in Newport. It’s not far.”

The light turned green and they headed toward the coast.

About an hour later, they entered the small coastal town of Newport. A cool ocean breeze filled the air. The smell of saltwater entered Emily’s nostrils. Seagulls coasted overhead, watching for a handout. Sebastian pulled the bike into the parking lot of a restaurant along Nye Beach called Nana’s Irish Pub. He turned the bike off. He removed his helmet and set it on the seat. Emily had trouble unbuckling her helmet, so he did it for her. His fingers brushed her chin as he unbuckled the strap, making her skin tingle. She averted her gaze until he loosened the strap. She took the helmet off and shook out her hair. She handed the helmet to him. Next she removed the jacket and set it on the bike, then stretched her legs and arched her back. Sebastian stuffed their jackets into a saddlebag, then headed toward the entrance.

Sebastian ordered a Guinness while she asked for ice water. He quirked a brow at her once the waitress had gone. “Water? When are you going to live, Emily?”

“I don’t like beer,” she admitted. “And I thought you were done drinking alcohol.”

He held her gaze. “Like I told you last night, that wasn’t working. I’m trying something different now.”

She quirked a brow. “Drinking again?”

He nodded. “Sex. Drugs. Alcohol.”

Her cheeks flamed.

“I’m joking. It’s just a beer, Emily. Not like I’m going to get drunk. I think I deserve it, don’t you?”

“Coming from anyone else, the words ‘it’s just a beer’ would probably mean exactly that.” She held his gaze. “But for a former addict it’s never ‘just a beer’ and you know it. But I’m not judging you. It’s your life.”

Color crept up Sebastian’s neck and into his face. He lowered his gaze.

Guilt stabbed through her. It was none of her business if Sebastian chose to drink. Except he was the driver of the motorcycle. If something happened to him, she would be stranded. So she had a right to be concerned about what he drank, didn’t she?